I always felt that Bob Dylan was on the money when he sang: "When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose," so much so that in the early part of my career I adopted it as my own motivational mantra. Since then things have changed, materialistically at least, and yet such is my affection for the sentiment behind that line that I constantly find myself applying it to new situations, like the fortunes of Norwich, QPR and Swansea this season.

It's been a tough start for the three promoted clubs as a group. Between them they've picked up one point, scored one goal and conceded nine. Yet these are early days and their biggest strength could turn out to be the one thing that nobody else in the Premier League has: they have nothing to lose.

A number of their players will be appearing in the Premier League for the first time, which is a markedly different experience from playing there with the reputation of someone from whom great things are continually expected. To the players already plying their trade you are an unknown quantity and this, coupled with the team spirit that newly promoted teams almost always have, provides the Premier League newcomers with their most dangerous weapon.

Everything has a wonderful novelty value, from the fabulous stadiums, like the Emirates, where the facilities are better than the five-star hotel you stayed in the night before, to the seemingly insignificant things that put a smile on your face, like the lion with the crown on its head on the sleeve of your shirt and the balls that move all over the place – nobody particularly likes them but they're new, so who cares?

There are some things that you simply can't help getting excited about, like being on Match of the Day every week, although I quickly came to realise that this also has its drawbacks when you're playing for a promoted club. Not long after the season started one of our players missed what at first glance looked like an easy chance but on closer inspection revealed the assistant referee had flagged for offside.

MOTD, however, replayed the incident several times in its highlights with Alan Hansen pulling quotes out of the idiot's guide to punditry like: "If you don't take those at this level, then you're gonee get punished." They portrayed it as a missed chance to provide their pundits with a stereotype to suit the game, namely: smaller, newly promoted team plays OK but squanders a great opportunity and learns a harsh lesson after conceding at the other end. That sort of patronising coverage is much easier than doing homework on unknown players.

Financially the difference in the Premier League is huge. Promoted players will often get a 100% wage increase while around the club everything is done on and off the field to encourage you to retain top-flight status. Suddenly numbered car parking spaces appear at the training ground, flights are used for away games when a coach used to do the job perfectly fine and the staff numbers are swelled by the addition of the best chefs, player liaison officers to call if you need a restaurant booked or the media off your back and, bizarrely, at one of my clubs, a resident priest. I never did get round to asking who sent for him.

One of the most important things, though, is to remember what got you in the Premier League in the first place. Ian Holloway, the Blackpool manager, was particularly shrewd in this respect last season. His players were eating their lunch from tin-foil packages delivered in the boot of a car to their training ground (otherwise known as a hut with smashed windows with some playing fields) and washing their own kit. Little wonder they kept their feet on the ground.

The manager is so often the key to the hopes of a newly promoted team. He is riding high on the back of last season's success along with his players and, if promotion has been on the cards for a while, he may already have targets earmarked to improve the squad. The trick is to strengthen without upsetting the harmony in the changing room, which isn't always easy if a new signing has joined on higher wages than those who slogged their guts out to win promotion.

Victories in the Premier League come nothing like as easily as they did the year before but there is enormous satisfaction to be taken from getting results as the underdogs. I've been in that position and at the end of games witnessed top professionals refusing to shake hands or swap shirts because they couldn't accept that they hadn't beaten this team of nobodies and one or two somebodies. And all that does is spur the smaller clubs on.

I actually came to prepare for games with the mind-set that I had no respect for any player from the first whistle until the last, irrespective of their background. That is not to be confused with kicking people to bits; it is simply a way of thinking that allows me to play with no fear of reputations or bank balances. After a while you begin to notice a change: the handshakes come, they might even start calling you by your nickname. Other managers recognise your quality and you may be on your way up the ladder. We can't all be Lionel Messi but it is amazing how far determination to succeed can carry a player.

Indeed, in the days when I'd have to leave the pitch, after ruining a few betting coupons, with no shirt and no handshake, I'd walk directly behind my opposite number towards the tunnel staring at the name on his back and think to myself: "Now you don't talk so loud, now you don't seem so proud, how does it feel?" There is a lot to be said for having nothing and sometimes I really miss the effects of it. I'm sure Bob knows the feeling and, come the end of the season, perhaps Norwich, QPR and Swansea will too.